


Hair, Fortune, and the Alliance

by Smileymask



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smileymask/pseuds/Smileymask
Summary: The night the Kid-On-Air-Hawkins alliance is finalized, Hawkins calls in Killer to discuss a matter of importance.Spoilers up to Chapter 981.
Relationships: Basil Hawkins & Killer, Eustass Kid & Killer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Hair, Fortune, and the Alliance

“Damn that longarm!” Kid was still fuming. “Is he taking this alliance seriously or not?”

Earlier in the day the Kid, On-Air, and Hawkins Pirates had decided to finalize the terms of their alliance, bringing a conclusion to three whole days of long and contentious negotiation.

The three pirate crews held a large banquet to celebrate the occasion, their ships docked side by side on the beach of the Kid Pirates’ island. The revelry ran long into the evening, and it was perhaps inevitable that it would end on a sour note with two hair-trigger Captains and a lot of alcohol involved.

Apoo had been surprisingly amenable to the idea of an alliance, but he never really dropped his confrontational attitude even after the three Captains had shaken hands. He had made a snide comment about a mere combat crewman being allowed to dine at the same table with the Captains, in a tone dripping with accusations of favoritism and worse. Kid had predictably reacted by summoning all the cutlery on the beach and throwing it at Apoo's head, and it was then the party came to an abrupt and screeching halt.

“Someone tell me this whole fucking deal isn’t a mistake,” growled Kid to his crew, forehead gripped sullenly in his flesh hand.

Heat stepped in to pacify his irate Captain. Despite his bizarre exterior, Heat was naturally talkative and had a friendly and disarming manner; Kid and Killer had asked him specifically to gauge the other crews when he joined in the banquet.

“Well, boss, I can’t say much about their shit Captain, but I mingled with the crew a bit and I don't see anything off about 'em. They got no beef with Red-Hair specifically, but they're all pretty into the idea of taking on a Yonko.”

Kid grunted. 

“A decision is a decision, Kid,” said Killer. “Remember, this is the best chance we have of taking out Red-Hair.”

Killer privately agreed that Apoo was downright insufferable; he was a prime specimen of the worst bullies that Killer had ever known since childhood. Jeering and cruel, insisting on getting the upper hand on people and delighting in picking at people’s weak spots. He'd taken an inordinate interest in questioning Killer’s authority in the alliance and finding out what was under Killer's mask.

Enduring Apoo himself was bad enough, but sometimes Kid could be too much. He rose to the bait every time, rushing to Killer’s defense in a way that only served to undermine Killer even more. He wished Kid would see that the only way to deal with bullies was to ignore them and tire them out of their own game.

Killer wished, too, that Kid would understand that Apoo was a necessary evil they would have to endure for Kid's own good. They needed an element of surprise if they wanted to challenge Red-Hair again, and Kid's powers, sadly, wouldn't cut it next time.

And, Killer thought cynically, he'd like to see Red-Hair try to block Apoo's ability, with that one arm of his. The cripple would regret not using a prosthesis, as Kid had the sense to do.

  
  


“Killer-san,” One of the crewmen came over to his seat with an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry to interrupt, but Basil Hawkins says he wants to talk to you on his ship,” he all but whispered, trying not to provoke Kid sitting at the other side of the table.

Killer tamped down the sudden flare of annoyance that he felt at the words. 

“Hey Kid, I’m going outside for a while,” he called across the table, and strode out of the room without waiting for Kid’s response.

Unlike Kid and Apoo, Hawkins was civilized and refined. He had frankly been a breath of fresh air during the negotiations, disdainfully shooting down Apoo’s little digs, and helping Killer wrestle the continually devolving conversation back to the discussion at hand.

It grated on his nerves all the more that Hawkins would now call him into his ship as though Killer were a mere errand boy. The terms of their alliance had stressed that Killer be recognized as an equal authority to the Captains; and now Hawkins was flouting it, on the very day of their agreement?

Killer was uncharacteristically angry, seething all through the short walk from their hideout to Hawkins’ ship. The cat mink that escorted Killer to the Captain’s quarters thanked him, saying something about the Captain not having had anyone new to brush for a while, but Killer was not in a mood to try and figure out what he meant by that.

He was doubly insulted when he found Hawkins reclining in a bath, of all things, not even having bothered to dress for company.

“Ah, you have arrived.” 

Hawkins rose and stepped out of the water, and wrapped himself in a robe, movements methodical and unhurried.

“You rang for me, Hawkins?” Killer grit out. “Next time, you better remember I am not some errand boy in this alliance.”

“I apologize; I did not mean to insult you. It was for a personal business I requested your presence,” Hawkins intoned.

Something about Hawkins’ prompt apology suddenly took the wind out of Killer’s anger. “What personal business are you talking about?”

“Your hair,” Hawkins said simply.

“My hair?” Killer echoed stupidly.

“Yes. I could not help but notice it is sorely neglected; I wish to offer my service, now that we are allies.”

His hair? Killer was gobsmacked to say the least. Never in all his years as a pirate had he heard of such a proposition. What could Hawkins mean by this?

If this was, god forbid, a come-on; a ploy to see his face; or even worse, some black magic shit where he'd be put into one of Hawkins' dolls and be cut down the next time Hawkins took a hit--

Hawkins had approached to stand directly in front of Killer. Hawkins towered over him, his face its usual inscrutable mask. Even in towel and robe he projected an air of majesty, as though he did not care one whit about the state of his dress or how he is perceived. 

“I assure you I have no ill intent - I do not wish to seduce you, nor cause you harm.”

Killer raised an eyebrow under his mask. “You read minds as well as fortunes?”

“No,” Hawkins replied calmly. “It is what people usually assume when I invite them to my quarters.

“And I expect that you have qualms due to my Devil Fruit. It can truly be an obstacle to forming closer connections; people who know of my power are so quick to distrust it.”

“Yeah, it looks pretty suspect when you have all these Voodoo dolls and now you want to touch my hair.”

“My Fruit does not work in that manner - your bodily products are immaterial. Your will must first be under my influence, for me to harness your life force.”

“Won't that mean I'll be under your influence if I agree to do what you ask?”

Hawkins smiled wryly. “There is a distinction, which is too complicated to explain at depth.”

Killer sighed. He was a little intrigued, despite himself; maybe Hawkins would divulge more about his Devil Fruit powers if they continued talking. And if Hawkins wanted to get his hands on samples of his hair he could really have done so long ago. “All right, as long as you're really sure this isn't some black magic deal.”

“I promise you it is not; thank you for indulging me. Please wait here while I change my clothing.”

“I thought you said it was rude to keep your guests waiting.”

“Well, I thought you wouldn't mind as you have kept your guests waiting before.” Hawkins said, and if Killer didn’t know better he would say Hawkins sounded almost playful.

“Fair enough,” Killer shrugged.

Killer had nothing to do but look around the room while Hawkins was gone. Hawkins’ cabin was ornately and lavishly decorated, with heavy upholstery and dark lacquered wood on every surface.

An oil painting, depicting a man nailed to a cross; Killer wondered why Hawkins would display such a thing in his own room.

A large diorama of what looked to be a Marine with a seagull on his helmet - Killer recognized it as some fictional character, not sure who - sat in prime position on Hawkins' desk, looking rather out of place in the otherwise somber decor.

A spherical astrolabe revolved slowly in the center of the room, light glinting off a model planet as it traveled on its orbit.

A large marble bathtub, the same one Hawkins had just been soaking himself in, sat in one corner, separated from the rest of the room with tiling and curtains.

Killer couldn't understand Hawkins and his obsession with baths; Kid was okay with showers but would never take a bath, saying that he hated the feeling of having the strength drained out of him. And it’s so impractical, too. Wherever does he get all that fresh water?

Killer had never really taken care of his hair before, either. He let it grow out simply because he never got around to cutting it. He had hacked some of it off after it got charred in the fight with Red-Hair along with his arm, but that was about the only time he had done something to it other than brush it out sometimes.

He felt not a little ridiculous, like he had come to pamper himself at a woman's spa. The lavish surroundings and the heavy floral smell in the air added to that feeling.

Unbidden, though, an image of his and Kid's weekly ritual of clipping, stripping, and repainting Kid's fingernails came to mind, and Killer smiled a little at himself.

Maybe Hawkins wasn't so different from them, after all. 

Hawkins came back with combs and bottles in hand, and had Killer recline on a deep chair. Hawkins didn't ask Killer to remove the mask, though it would have been more convenient for himself; a gesture that Killer appreciated. 

He combed out Killer's hair meticulously, starting from the bottom, teasing out knots and tangles.

The subtle tugs and shifts on his scalp felt very pleasant, and Killer suddenly felt a little guilty for his earlier outburst.

“There's a lot of it,” said Killer. “Hope you're not regretting the offer now.”

“Not at all,” Hawkins said. “It is relaxing. Your hair is beautiful.” As though that were the most natural thing to say to another man. Killer didn’t spare him a response, but flushed a little despite himself.

Hawkins finished combing and began carefully snipping out the ends of his hair.

“In truth,” Hawkins spoke at length, “I called you here to bring to your attention a disturbing trend in my predictions.”

“About what?” asked Killer.

"Our alliance."

Killer blinked. Somehow he’d forgotten all about business during this strange impromptu encounter. He felt jarred out of a trance and thrown back to the matters of reality. "I'm listening."

“It speaks of failure. It is not yet clear how; but it suggests something unexpected, some external calamity that we have not taken into account.”

“You think something’s off with Apoo?”

“It is a possibility. But there is something else, of an enormous scale. I urge you to look into other variables that you may have overlooked.”

The words were as vague as they could be, like all fortune-telling was, but they resonated with some instinct in Killer's gut that he had been repressing all this while, and made unease settle deep in his stomach.

“I see. That's very sensible, I will do some more research.”

Hawkins acknowledged him with a small hum. He started working in a fragrant oil into Killer’s hair with his fingers.

“I'm surprised, though, that your cards deal with such pragmatic matters.” Killer remarked idly.

“The cards are no more or less practical than your weather forecast.” Hawkins’ reply came with more heat than Killer would have expected. 

“They read the currents of fortune as weather instruments read the currents of air; as foolish as it would be to set sail without knowing the weather, it is the same arrogance to discount the information granted by the cards.”

Killer could tell this was a point of importance to Hawkins from the way his voice rose a fraction and his speech sped up minutely; Killer chose his response carefully.

“I see... I think I understand a little better where you’re coming from with your cards.”

“All I ask is that you consider my advice,” said Hawkins. Killer couldn’t tell if he was pleased or displeased with his reply. Hawkins rose and wiped his hands on a towel. “We are done, I hope we can repeat this at another date.”

* * *

Kid was waiting up for him when Killer returned to the hideout.

“Where were you?” Kid asked. He seemed to have calmed down some; his voice was mellow and a tiny bit whiny, the voice that he used only when he was alone with Killer, ever since they were children.

“You smell weird,” he continued, and did a double take. “What the fuck did you do to your hair?”

“Do I look that different?” Killer asked, and checked a lock of it in his hands. It did feel softer, but that was about the only difference he could tell. “Hawkins did it for me.”

“Hawkins? What the fuck?”

“We had a good talk, actually.”

“About what?”

“He said he had a bad feeling. About the alliance.”

“You think we should call it off?”

“Not that again,” Killer laughed tiredly.

“No, I’m serious. It’s not about Apoo being an ass. I want to know what you really think about this.” 

Kid was looking at him intently, almost sternly. Kid always picked up when Killer was feeling bothered, and Killer knew that Kid wouldn't let him go until he explained everything on his mind.

Killer sat heavily on the chair next to Kid and took off his mask.

“I’m not sure what to think. I thought we needed Apoo’s help in all this, and suddenly I don’t feel so sure.” Killer sighed. “Hawkins said we’re overlooking something. It’s probably some hocus pocus bullshit for all we know, but I feel like I can’t rest until I do more research.”

“I'm not surprised you feel like you need to know more,” said Kid seriously. His flesh hand grabbed Killer’s to get his attention. “That's how you always are. But I’ll tell you one thing - this ain’t all on your shoulders.”

"Well, who'll do the research if not me?"

"I know you'll do the research. And you tell me if you find something fishy. But whatever decision we make is ultimately my responsibility and I don't want you losing sleep over this.

"Because I'm the Captain. Say it."

"You're the Captain," said Killer with a smile. It brought to mind memories of Kid as a snot-nosed brat, insisting that the older boy say these exact words to him. They'd come so far from those days, yet some things stayed exactly the same. It never failed to restore a deep-rooted conviction inside him that everything would be all right in the end.

"Damn right. I'm the Captain. Even if things go south, I’ll deal with it all. Hawkins can go on and on about luck, but I'm fated to be the Pirate King and that's stronger than any bad luck he can predict.

"So Captain's orders - let's go to bed."

**Author's Note:**

> Hawkins and Apoo's Devil Fruit abilities are confusing to say the least. Chapter 981 reveals that Killer knew the countermeasures to Apoo's powers, so I imagine he must have done some background checks on the two of them before proposing the alliance. I rather liked the idea of Killer trying to use Apoo as a specific counter to Shanks.
> 
> Hawkins' fortune telling is another thing that I always found perplexing. I imagine he must have predicted something bad happening to the alliance, even if he didn't manage to predict Kaido literally dropping out of the sky.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
